The local swans have taken to waiting for me en mob whenever I leave the boat. We posture at one another and we hiss. You can lead a swan to water but you’re not allowed to tie a knot in its neck, Duct Tape its feet together and throw it into the canal. Sadly.
The Cardinal has moved, sort of. Right back where he was in the photograph above, but facing in das opposite direction. The winding hole that I just overshot the other day has been a tad lined with boats on both sides, disconveniently, but the two boats moored up ahead bogged off, leaving the canal there unhindered by human hand. It’s a bit deceptive, there looks to be enough room for a generous u-turn…
…but in fact the canal is all of only about ten or fifteen feet wider than the Cardinal is long, and that’s not a lot when you’re manoeuvring summat damned near sixty foot long and wi’no brakes.
This view shows that more clearly.
So, instead of reversing to the winding hole I cruised us up a hundred and some yards to turn – losing the eager audience lining the official winding hole in the process – and ensuring that a beautiful, perfect, award-worthy three-point turn was had by all and witnessed by none.
Well, witnessed by a couple of anglers, but they don’t count (the worms are generally more cheerful than the anglers). Job done, anyway, and we’re facing in the direction that I think I will want to move in during the coming days. I now have the option of moving at dawn without having to show an angry propeller and a disconvenient backwash to the sleepy-head slug-a-beds moored hereabouts and otherwise in my way. In theory, anyway.
News? Well, there’s a little, yes. This fellow has taken to flashing all and sundry.
I’ve been flashed by better.
Do birds catch the breeze to dry their sweaty pits off? It’s been hot and humid enough of late for there to be need.
Talking of late, the late canal dog with his memorial has, I was very pleased to see, been treated to some fresh flowers. Someone is still hurting an awful lot. I wonder if anyone’s ever conducted a survey charting how many people would run into a burning building to save their dog versus running in to save the significant other?
The Phantom Crocheter of England has been at work on another one of those “abandoned” buildings that I mentioned in the previous post, this time the buildings where Middlewich Boat Thingies used to do business before reality caught up with them. What larks.
Unless, of course, I am (as usual) completely missing the point, and this is some sort of handicraft-enabled OAP version of QR code for the passing of secret messages…
‘Doris, I have the cocaine, bring two tubes of Ralgex to the mobility clinic next Thursday and it’s yours.’
That sort of thing. The police would never cotton on in a million years. Perhaps you really can pull the wool over the Constabulary eyes?
I can’t for the life of me decide whether the drop-in services at King’s Lock Chandlery have gone all open-air/French and as such wholly unusable by the passing English, or whether they are proudly exhibiting the very latest boat bog with heavy-duty macerator…
Constipation dealt with at 4,000rpm, don’t forget to put the seat lid down again after use, and to wash your hands and stop the engine. Turbocharger option available for vegans.
What will they think of next?
I don’t know, I can’t even think, let alone consider what next. I seem to spend most of my life waiting for my brain (and attendant mojo) to join me in the daily fray.
Oh well. Th…th…that’s all, folks.
Evensong at six.